


Orclings and Warg Pups

by LectorEl



Series: Prince among Orcs [1]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Azog is a good daddy by Orcish standards, Gen, Orc Culture, Orc feels, Orcish childrearing, Orcs, Thorn and his warg, Thorn is an adorable little dwarf-orc, and gender roles, and religion, or at least amuses Azog, orcish friendship, teasing builds character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LectorEl/pseuds/LectorEl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruises and battles and broken bones, that's what little orcs are made of. Thorn grows up among the orcs with a black warg pup at his feet and a sharpened stone in his fist.</p>
<p>Drabbles and one-shots set before the events of Son of the Pale Orc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Thorn stumbles over his feet, clenching his hand in Rukh’s fur to keep from crying out as the cuts across his soles re-open. Rukh chuffs, low in her throat, and he straightens up, releasing her fur. He continues walking, every step agony. Beside him, Rukh paces protectively, her sharp fangs on conspicuous display.

“Don’t fall,” Thorn hisses under his breath. “Don’t fall, don’t fall…”

The large chamber he and Azog have claimed as their own is only a few spans away. He will make it. Thorn refuses to accept another outcome. Hûrgaz is the most vicious of his rivals, and her silver warg towers over most of its litter-mates beside Rukh. He won’t let it be an injury from her that brings him down.

Thorn catches the edge of the wall, panting heavily. “I’m going to hang her by her _entrails_ , swear to the creatures of the deep.”

“Harder done than said,” Azog says, watching Thorn with an amused, evaluating look. Thorn stands straight under Azog’s attention. Behind him, Rukh submits with ill-grace to grooming by Azog’s warg. She snarls half-heartedly, but settles after a sharp nip to her ear.

“Be fun to try,” he says, taking a single deep breath, and steps away from the wall. Seven wide strides bring him to Azog’s side.

Azog smiles his approval, and lifts Thorn off his feet. “Gifted brat. I didn’t eviscerate anyone until my seventh century.”

“Any tips?” Thorn asks, resting his head on Azog’s shoulder tiredly. He maybe shouldn’t have taken on Hûrgaz and Barash at the same time.

“Cut shallowly. You’ll want the intestines intact if you intend to hang her,” Azog tells him, and Thorn nods.

“Shallow, okay,” Thorn says, yawning. Azog snorts.

“Sleep. You can kill her when you wake up.”


	2. Chapter 2

The dwarf watches the orclings with narrow eyes, fist clenched tight around a stone with a sharp edge. The orclings – and the warg pups, in their far corner – watch back. It peels its lips back and snarls. One of the braver orclings snarls back.

The dwarf edges forward, skirting past the cluster of orclings to the warg pups. The pups growl.

“No,” the dwarf says, smacking a black pup on the nose. It yips, and sinks its fang into the dwarf’s hand. The dwarf screeches and tries to pull its hand free.

“A pint on the warg,” Shakgrig says, watching the dwarf struggle. 

Azog eyes his undersized foundling. Blunt teeth are bared in a snarl as it struggles, eyes locked with the pup’s. “Deal.”

A quarter of a candle-mark latter, the dwarf has a whole, if bloodied hand, the warg pup has a perch atop the dwarf’s stomach, and one of the orclings is dead from a bite that severed a femoral artery. 

“Huh.” Shakgrig looks at Azog. “Where’d you get that thing again?”

Azog smirks and doesn’t answer. Shakgrig grumbles, but quietly, not daring to risk Azog’s temper. Azog collects his pint of ale from him in the evening, and returns to the children’s pen to see what has become of the situation.

The dwarf is sleeping, for the first time since Azog dumped in the pen. Its warg pup curls atop its stomach, its snout pressed up against the dwarf’s throat. Azog tears a strip of meat off his dinner, and drops it to the pup.

“Don’t eat the dwarf,” Azog commands. The pup whuffs, snapping at Azog’s fingers when they get too close. Azog lets it chew on them for a few moments before pulling them free. The dwarf opens its eyes, and snarls sleepily at Azog. 

“ _Mine_ ,” it says, curling its fingers into the pup’s rough fur. “ _My_ Rukh, not yours.”


	3. Chapter 3

Thorn pulls himself to the top of the rocky ledge, balancing precariously on the edge, and smirking down at his friend. “I win,” he crows.

Shelobzagh scoops a rock up off the ground and hurls it at him. Thorn dodges, laughing, and loses his balance.

“ _I_ win,” Shelobzagh says as Thorn hits the ground hard. Thorn snarls and tackles the other orc. They tussle using claws and teeth and hard little stones, laughing and howling and swearing death upon one another.

“Weakling,” Thorn taunts, bearing blood-stained teeth.

Shelobzagh lunges and catches him by the ankles. “Elf-fucker!”

“Day-lover,” Thorn spits, clawing at the grip Shelobzagh had on him.

“Bastard, you take that back!”  
***  
Azog eyes his foundling child, amusement deforming his harsh features. “Were you fighting or rutting?” he asks, spotting the tears in his clothing. 

Thorn scowls, crossing his arms. “None of your business.”

“If you pick up scabs from your stupidity, don’t come crying to me than,” Azog says, smirking at Thorn’s disgusted expression.

“I hate you,” Thorn says with injured dignity, stalking off. From behind, Azog can see the rising bruise on his neck. 

“Tell Shelobzagh he’s doing it right,” Azog calls, laughing. 

Thorn’s shoulders stiffen, embarrassment radiating off him. “Go to hell!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I have no excuse.


End file.
